Anna Sue Ray of Dallas, Ga., stands at the border of Copperhill, Tenn., and McCaysville, Ga., with granddaughters Halle Maxwell, 8, and Izzy Maxwell, 6. If state lines are redrawn, local tourism could suffer.

COPPERHILL, TENN. — Patrons at Patrick's Pub and Grill drink their beer in Tennessee, but a walk to the restroom in the same building takes them across the state line to a dry county in Georgia.

But as Georgia eyes a long shot bid to move its state line north to the Tennessee River in pursuit of water for drought-stricken Atlanta, residents fear this Appalachian tourist town and its bars would be left high and dry — literally. If the move went through, local watering holes would be in Fannin County, Ga., which bans alcohol.

"Everybody would have to drive 40 miles" to get a beer, Deonna Beckett, 37, of Ducktown, said recently as she sat with friends at Dinos New York Pub in Copperhill.

Extreme drought

Lawmakers in drought-stricken Georgia have empowered the governor to sue to correct an 1818 survey that mistakenly placed Georgia's northern line just short of the Tennessee River, which boasts a flow about 15 times greater than the one Atlanta depends on for water. Any border change would likely require an act of Congress or a U.S. Supreme Court ruling, so it's unlikely the state lines would actually move.

It's one of the more dramatic proposals to help Georgia cope with a drought of historic proportions. Most of the Atlanta metropolitan area of 5 million people is still in an extreme drought. And recent rains haven't done much to help its chief source of water, Lake Lanier, recharge its supply.

Though farfetched, the proposal to change the state border has generated plenty of debate in Copperhill and neighboring McCaysville, Ga., which have long made a name for themselves by poking fun at the jagged border that runs through their city.

The towns have painted bright blue dashes across streets, sidewalks, even the sides of downtown buildings to mark the border and amuse tourists. Numerous signs help visitors figure out where they are, declaring: "Welcome to Tennessee" or "Welcome to Georgia."

Not in our town

Once a copper mining boomtown, Copperhill now has about 500 residents, about half the size of McCaysville. Business owners in both towns count on the painted border that attracts visitors and shoppers as a stop on the Blue Ridge Scenic Railroad.

Despite the line separating them, the sister towns treat each other like kin and — unlike their states — have reached a water-sharing agreement from Blue Ridge Lake in Georgia. That makes residents all the more rankled about the plan to move the border.

Even 14-year-old Michelle Martinez of Copperhill grimaced at the suggestion of living in another state.